


in my mind I'm running around a cold and empty space

by thekaidonovskys



Series: we found love in a hopeless place [4]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - BDSM, Dom Clint Barton, M/M, Sub Phil Coulson, Subdrop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-20
Updated: 2015-06-27
Packaged: 2018-04-05 07:00:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4170411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thekaidonovskys/pseuds/thekaidonovskys
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first time that the world starts making a bit of sense again is two hours after he's been brought to medical, when Phil hears Clint's voice outside his room. He pushes through the terrifying haze that's clouded up his mind and does his best to focus.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I have commonly seen done in this type of AU, this fic involves trauma-induced sub drop. I'm honestly not sure how accurate this is, so anything that might seem dramatized or a little unrealistic can be put down to how things work in this universe.

The first time that the world starts making a bit of sense again is two hours after he's been brought to medical, when Phil hears Clint's voice outside his room. He pushes through the terrifying haze that's clouded up his mind and does his best to focus.

" - my submissive in there," Clint's saying. "It's supposed to be on your charts that I'm his emergency contact. Why the fuck can't I go in?"

"Agent Coulson has been through trauma," the nurse says. It's harder to focus on her voice. "He's currently in shock, and until he's more aware of his surroundings we don't want to -"

"Oh my _god_ ," Clint says, and there's fury in his voice. "Where the hell did you get your training - and have you even bothered to look at his file?" There's a rustling of paper, then a sound of violent jabbing. "There. Look at that number. He's a high rank submissive and you think he's in shock? That's not shock, that's fucking sub drop, and he's not getting better until I get in there to help him. Oi!"

"What seems to be the problem?" comes another voice.

"My submissive is in that room, in sub drop after experiencing trauma, and she won't let me in to level him out. And I'm telling you now, if there's even a hint of violation of submissives rights going on here, I will take this straight to Director Fury. Let me into that room. Now."

Phil's smiling. Clint's here to rescue him.

The door opens, then closes again. After a moment, Clint comes into view, all his anger clearly gone. "Phil?" he says softly. "You with me?"

"My hero," Phil slurs, and holds out his arms.

Clint's there in a heartbeat, wrapping Phil up in his arms, safe and secure. "I'm here, sweetheart," he says. "I've got you, it's all going to be okay. Do you know what's going on?"

Phil nods, then presses his face to Clint's neck. It hurts a little with scrapes and bruises all over his face, but he doesn't care. "Sub drop. Heard you yelling."

"Shit," Clint murmurs. "I'm so sorry, honey, I didn't want you to hear that. I know you don't like me raising my voice."

"Not at me. To protect me. Felt safe."

Phil can't quite get his words together, but Clint seems to understand, relaxing again. "Good. You are safe, I promise. Focus on me, and let me bring you back."

Phil does. Clint talks to him softly, words Phil doesn't really register but knows that they're good, and keeps Phil close, stroking his hair. It's so nice, but Phil knows it could be nicer if he could get this damn cloud out of his mind. He tries to focus harder, then whimpers when it refuses to budge. " _Clint_ ," he begs, and tries very hard not to cry.

"Shh," Clint whispers. "You're okay, sweet boy, I promise. It's going to get better. Just don't panic, don't cry, and don't worry. I've got you, and I won't let you fall. Trust me?"

"Yes." Because even if nothing else makes sense right now, trusting Clint is the simplest logic.

"Good boy. I love you so much. Stay with me, and it'll get easier."

And it does. Clint gives him something to focus on, something warm to counteract the cold, a light to pierce through the dark. Slowly the fog begins to lift, and the world returns to clarity. It’s still dark around the edges, as if the haze is ready to come back at any moment, but at least now Phil remembers what happened - a compromised op, all captured, all viciously interrogated, three dead from the backup team sent in to extract them. He comes back to himself enough to feel the flickers of pain still coursing through him, to hear the heart monitor beeping steadily. His breathing is in sync with Clint’s, and he finally feels like he’s a part of the world again.

He lifts his head, and Clint smiles down at him. "There's those beautiful eyes I know and love," he says. "Even if one of them is almost swollen shut. Back with me?"

"Yeah. I - I think. I've never dropped like this before."

Clint's eyes darken. "That's because after past traumatic missions, you were taken for general aftercare with all the uncollared subs. Someone didn't change your medical alert status - it was supposed to alert the team as soon as you landed to get me here to care for you, but you were still down in the general aftercare group."

"And since there are no uncollared subs at this level - or any subs apart from me - that group was ignored," Phil completes. "How did that happen?"

"I'll be investigating," Clint promises. “It’s been two months, it should have been on file a long time ago. It won't ever happen again... but once is enough. Let's deal with this first. I'm going to have to let them in to do general medical checks - and so they can confirm for me that nothing's broken in your poor beautiful face - but as soon as you're cleared we'll go home."

"Okay. Clint?"

"Yes, dearest?"

"I still feel... wrong? Around the edges."

"That's okay," Clint soothes. "You dropped hard, sweetheart, and I've only levelled you out enough to get you through your medical checks and hopefully home. It's not going to be okay just yet, and you won't be going to work tomorrow. I need to give you a lot of aftercare."

Phil looks at the blankets. "Sorry," he whispers.

"Don't you dare be," Clint says softly. "This isn't your fault, not in the slightest. You know I love caring for you, and this is the first time I’ve been able to look after you after an op - I’m not complaining. Okay, I am complaining, because this is the first time you’ve been on an op with a Dom to come home to and not only did the op fuck up, SHIELD fucked up and now you’re hurting - but I’m not complaining to you. Except I just complained to you. Fuck. Sorry.”

Phil chuckles. “It’s okay. You’re not mad at me, that’s what matters. ‘m sure I’m gonna be mad at SHIELD too, but I can’t really feel mad right now.” He sighs. “Feeling things hurts.”

And he feels stupid and juvenile and _pitiful_ , but Clint just rubs his back and kisses his forehead. “Don’t worry about it, honey. You’re really not in control of your emotions right now, and it’s probably better that you don’t try to feel angry or anything too strong just yet. However you feel right now is okay, as long as you know you’re safe. I’m going to take you home as soon as I can, and I’ll hold you until it starts feeling better again. Okay?”

"Sounds good.”

"Good. I'm going to go open the door and let the doctors in. I'll only be gone a few seconds, then I'll come back and hold your hand while they check you over."

Clint lets go, and Phil wants to grab him, wants to beg Clint to not leave him - but that's stupid, Clint's not leaving, and Phil bites his lip, keeps himself silent. He does squeeze Clint's hand pretty hard when he returns, then forces himself to back off. "Sorry," he murmurs.

Clint squeezes in return. "It's okay, beautiful. Take what you need. I'm here."

Phil doesn't really focus much while he's examined. He hears a few comments about cuts and bruises and instructions for Clint on how to treat the abrasions. Clint pays attention, takes all the papers handed to him, and asks a few general questions.

When the doctor leaves, Phil looks at Clint. "Do I get to go home?"

Clint frowns at him. "Yeah, honey, we just talked about that. He's gone to get the release forms."

"Sorry. Tried to pay attention."

"Shh, sweet boy, I know. You're doing really well. Once you get out and get some fresh air, that's going to help you clear your head a little."

"Okay."

The doctor returns and Clint signs the forms while Phil is detached from the monitors. "Need some help getting dressed?" Clint asks once they're left alone again.

Phil shrugs. "Let me see if I can do it?" He needs to be able to succeed at something today.

"Sure." Clint brings over his clothes, and Phil exerts all of his focus on getting himself dressed, going slow to avoid all of the bruises and wounds he's ended up with. "Good boy," Clint praises once he's slipped his jacket on, and takes the tie from his hands. "No need to worry about this, I don't think. Let's get you home."

Clint's right - the cool night air on the top deck clears his mind a little and helps him focus. It also makes him shiver, and Clint wraps an arm around him, strong and warm. "Thanks," Phil murmurs. "Have we got a shuttle?"

"Uh-huh. Used your privileges to get us a priority - didn't think you'd mind." Clint steers him to the waiting shuttle, directs the driver to take them to the tower, then pulls Phil as close as their seatbelts allow. "How are you feeling?"

“‘s like being drunk.”

Clint raises an eyebrow. “Yeah?”

Phil nods. “But sort of like being on the edge - it could be a happy night, could be a sad one, could get angry and smash a bottle over someone’s head… it’s like I could feel everything or nothing and I’m sort of teetering on the edge just waiting to fall one way or another and - and this is so stupid, I’m sorry -”

“No, no, it’s really not. It’s helpful. I’m glad I know how you’re feeling. You won’t -” Clint sighs. “I can’t promise that you won’t fall, but you won’t wake up in the gutter in the morning. That I can swear.”

Phil smiles. "Good. I do feel a bit better. Not quite like myself yet, but like I could be. Kinda like sobering up, I guess?”

"Good. And it will get better. Not straight away, and I'll tell you now that you are going to get worse again before you get better - you’re ‘sobering up’ now, but I’m afraid you’re probably gonna have a couple more drinks tonight - but it won't be as bad. I'll help you through and keep you safe."

"I know you will." Phil nuzzles against his neck for a moment, careful not to hurt his eye or any of the other scrapes he can feel on his face, then sighs and sits up. "Clint?"

"Yes, sweetheart?"

Phil takes a deep breath. "You won't like it. But I need to be Agent Coulson for a bit - you know stage two of this op is going to involve the team and they need to know what happened so they can prepare for their part."

Clint looks torn. "Are you sure you're up for it?"

"It won't take long. I can do it."

"Okay," Clint says reluctantly. "I know it's important."

"Thank you. And… thank you for not forbidding me to go today.”

“I wouldn’t dare.” Clint strokes his cheek, carefully touching the skin just under his eye. “It’s hell when you get hurt, but taking you away from your job would hurt you more. As long as you keep coming back to me safely, and as long as you’re not going on ops that are destined to fuck up, then I’m not going to be an asshole and stop you from going - try to stop you from going, I mean. You wouldn't let me make ultimatums like that. Did you think I would?”

“Others did.”

Clint’s eyes narrow. “What was said to you?”

“Nothing bad. Just surprise expressed by one of the agents that you let me go.”

“And that’s the other reason I’m not going to step in,” Clint says with a sigh. “You’ve fought a whole lot of prejudice to get to where you are, and if you now start backing out of things because your Dom says so, it destroys so much of what you’ve worked for - not just for you, but for others wanting to be you. I’m your Dom all the time, but I will not ever make you do things you don’t want to do. You’re the man I love because of your independence, not in spite of it.”

Phil smiles. “As are you.”

Clint chuckles, and they pass the rest of the ride in comfortable silence.

Clint gets JARVIS to assemble the team as soon as they enter the tower, and it only takes a few minutes before everybody - minus Thor who's visiting Jane - is in the kitchen. "Thanks for coming," Phil says, leaning against the counter. He's tired and really just wants to go to bed and be held by Clint, but he can't shirk his job. "Today's op was a fiasco, as you can probably tell by my face. The team was compromised - we were only meant to incapacitate some of the lower level workers and get the information you needed to play your part, but someone tipped them off and we were all caught and interrogated. I don’t think we gave any information up that’s going to compromise your attack, but it’s obviously going to have an impact. If nothing else, we know these guys aren’t fucking around - three agents are dead."

"Shit, Coulson," Tony says.

"Are you alright?" Steve asks, shooting a quick glance at Clint, who gives him a brief look in return. Phil knows what the silent byplay is about - while the others are looking at this from a mission and objective based view, Steve has immediately caught on to the personal implications for Phil, and is checking in with Clint to make sure he has too.

Phil would normally be pretty pissed off about that, but it's oddly comforting today. Perhaps that's just the sub drop talking - the need to know that he's safe and looked after is pretty high right now. "As fine as I can be," Phil says, keeping his tone professional. "But naturally the events of today affect all of you."

"What does that mean for next week?" Natasha asks.

"You need to be better," Phil says bluntly. "Better than them. Tomorrow when I go into the office -" Clint clears his throat, and Phil sighs. "Tomorrow when the office emails me," he corrects, "there'll be all the images we were able to get. Floor plans, entrances, cameras, good spots for concealment or sniping. I need you all to study them hard. I’ll go through them with you and we’ll formulate a plan together. From the quick debrief we got on the way back, it’s determined that we’re keeping this as low key as possible, so all planning will be done here.”

“We can do all that tomorrow, right?” Clint asks. His tone is casual, simple, but there’s an obvious undercurrent of worry.

“We can,” Phil says, “but before I forget, there are a few important points. Tony, have you got those…” Phil pauses, frowning. He knows this one… but he doesn’t. “What are they called? The grenades? The ones that disable all comms that aren’t yours?”

“StarkBombs?" Tony looks understandably confused - it’s not often that Phil forgets details like that, especially not when it comes to Tony's predictably named technology.

"Yes. Sorry. Long day." Phil rubs his forehead, trying to focus. “I think there are going to be issues with those. Apparently their technology circuit is very different to anything standard, so they might not work. Details tomorrow. Bruce, there's a room in there that needs immediate destruction. I'll make sure it's pointed out to you on the plans. Natasha..."

"Sir?" Natasha asks after a moment.

"Sorry," Phil says again, closing his eyes and forcing his thoughts to come together. "The... yes. The data room. There's no way you can infiltrate, they'll know who isn't one of them, so we need you to get in another way. I'll have the jammer... tomorrow? No, can't get it tomorrow - Thursday. Yes. Good."

"Coulson?" Steve asks.

"Right. Sorry, Steve. How's the upgrades on the shield?"

"Fine, but that's not what I wanted to ask. Are you okay?"

Phil nods. "Sure. Just... just a long day. Very long."

He lets go of the counter, sways, and quickly grabs it again - and there are sudden alarming tears in his eyes and he _can't do this_.

"Oh _fuck_ ," he hears Steve say. “Clint -”

Before Steve can finish, there are strong arms around Phil’s waist, holding him steady. "Come here, honey," Clint murmurs. "It's okay, I've got you. It's over, you're done. Let me take care of you."

Phil lets go of the counter again and turns to wrap his arms around Clint's neck. He feels so stupid for not even getting through a simple briefing, but he also knows he's not okay anymore, so Phil clings to Clint tight and trusts him to take care of it.

"What's happened?" Phil hears Bruce ask.

"Sub drop," Steve murmurs. “At least it sure looks like it.”

"It is,” Clint confirms. “He’s… not doing good. They didn't call me when he got back to base, left him for two hours on his own after enduring trauma. Dropped pretty much completely before I got to him. I levelled him enough to get him back here, but he's not okay quite yet, and definitely not okay enough to try and do something like this."

"Sorry," Phil says quietly.

"No apologies," Clint tells him. “I know you had to do it. Not your fault, sweetheart."

"'m sorry to them."

"To the team?" Phil nods and Clint sighs. "Steve? Reassure him?"

"Phil?" Steve asks, and Phil makes a small noise of assent. "None of us are cross or upset or judging you in any way, okay? We're all real sorry this happened to you, but it doesn't change anything. We still take orders from you, still trust you as our handler. Clint's going to take care of you, and we'll talk about the op when you're feeling better."

Phil nods. He can't find the words.

"Phil," Clint says softly after a moment. "Hey, c'mon, stay with me."

"Trying."

"I know. I don't think we're getting to my room, are we?" Phil shakes his head, and Clint tightens his hold. "You guys okay if we set up camp in the living room?" he asks over Phil's head. "I just need to hold him for awhile, get him through the worst of it."

"I was the only one in there," Tony says. "I'll get my stuff out, leave you to it."

As Tony leaves, Phil feels Clint stroking his hair. "Look at me, sweetheart?" he asks, and Phil tilts his head up, focusing the best he can. He knows he's here, knows Clint's here and the room's here, but nothing feels _here_. "Good boy," Clint says softly. "I'm going to carry you through, okay?"

Phil could walk, and kind of wants to protest (the whole team are right there after all), but it just feels so good to let Clint tell him what's happening and take care of everything. "Okay," he agrees.

"Clint?" Phil hears Steve ask. "When was the last time he ate?"

Clint swears softly. "God, I didn't even _think_. Phil? Honey, do you know -"

"Breakfast."

"Fuck." Clint sounds distraught. "We need to get some food into you, beautiful, no wonder you're being hit so hard."

"There are nutrient shakes in the fridge," Bruce says. "I think they'll be your best bet, you're not going to get him to eat if he's dropping this badly. Want me to bring one in?"

"Please. Some water too." Clint lets go of him and Phil whimpers, pressing close. "Shh, no, sweet boy, it's okay. I just need to pick you up." He holds one hand to Phil's back, the other under his knees, and scoops him off his feet. "There you go. I'm right here. We're moving now, going to go set up on the couch where you can be nice and comfortable."

Phil closes his eyes and hides his face against Clint's neck as he's carried into the living room. He waits to be set down, but Clint sits down instead, keeping Phil in his lap. Phil isn't complaining one bit, and makes himself comfortable. "He going down fast?" Phil hears Tony ask.

"Yeah," Clint says quietly, stroking Phil's back. "As long as he doesn't hit the same level I found him at this afternoon, we should be okay."

More footsteps, then two items placed on the table. "Just get JARVIS to tell us if you need anything else," Bruce says. "Otherwise, we'll leave you to it."

"Thank you," Clint says, and a few minutes later the door closes. "Phil?" Clint murmurs shortly after. "How are you feeling?"

"Like I'm falling." Phil huffs out a laugh, but it sounds too teary for his liking. “Guess I had those drinks after all.”

Clint's arms tighten. "I'm sorry, sweetheart. I can't stop it, but I'm going to be here the whole way through, and I'll do my best to keep you feeling safe." Clint shifts a little, one of his hands moving from Phil's back to pick something up. "I need you to drink a bit of this for me."

"Don't want to."

"I know. I'm sorry. Direct order."

Phil obediently opens his mouth and lets Clint help him take a few sips. When they don't immediately come back up like Phil's been expecting them to, he drinks a bit more, suddenly realizing how thirsty he is. "That all?" he asks when Clint takes it away.

"For now, yes. I don't want to make you sick to your stomach. Water?"

Phil drinks it greedily, then curls back into Clint when he's done. "When 'm I gonna feel better?" he asks.

Clint sighs. "I don't know, honey. I'm sorry. What are you feeling?"

"Unstable. Confused. Scared. Sad."

"All normal, but of course no less distressing for you. But it's going to get better, I promise."

"Clint?"

"Yes, dearest?"

"You said back in medical that I - you told me not to cry. Is that still...?"

"No, sweet boy. I just didn't want you getting too upset in there because I still had to get you home. If you need to cry, you go ahead and cry."

"You'll keep me safe?"

"I swear.”

Everything goes into a bit of a blur from there. There are tears, plenty of them, and some talking, a lot of reassurance and promises of safety and things getting better. Phil trusts Clint, trusts that the black fog won’t overcome him again, and eventually it fades out enough that Phil can fade into sleep instead.

***

Phil wakes to the low murmur of voices. He doesn't bother opening his eyes straight away, too warm and safe, just figures out where he is - on the couch, head in Clint's lap. And if Clint's here, he's safe.

He opens his eyes after a few minutes, and Clint immediately breaks off his conversation. "Hey, beautiful," he murmurs, touching Phil's cheek gently. "We didn't wake you did we?"

"Mm... yeah." Phil smiles. "It's okay." He pushes up on his elbows, Clint putting a hand to his back, and spots Steve on the other couch. "Hey, Steve," he says.

"Hi, Phil. You're looking better."

"I feel better. More myself." Phil twists around so he's sitting up properly, then leans against Clint. "The last few hours just feel like a weird dream... but I'm still sort of in it. Still not quite as focused as I'd like."

"That'll come with time and more sleep," Clint says, then chuckles when Phil's stomach suddenly growls. "And food. I think a very late dinner is in order."

"What time is it?"

"Almost midnight," Steve says. "Want me to make you something? I can do a mean omelette."

"Sounds perfect."

"One for you too, Clint?"

"That’d be great. Thank you, Steve."

"My pleasure."

Steve lets himself out, and Phil snuggles closer to Clint, who wraps him up in his arms. "You do seem a lot closer to baseline," Clint says after looking him over for a moment. "I'm glad."

"Me too. I feel like I need to be close to you though, more than normal."

"Since I don't plan on letting go of you any time soon, that won't be a problem." Phil smiles and Clint returns it. "After some food and a good night's sleep, you should be level again, but I'll still be keeping you very close for awhile. I signed us both off for medical leave tomorrow. There... may be repercussions from that."

"Why? There's definite grounds for short-notice medical leave."

"It's less about that and more the reasons I cited. You're fine, I just noted sub drop for you. I may have mentioned that, on top of caring for you, I'm also furious enough with SHIELD that if I went in tomorrow I might start shooting and not stop."

Phil sighs and tries not to smile. "Surprised I haven't gotten calls about it already," he says, reaching for his phone.

"Please. I switched that off hours ago. You're on medical stand-down, no calls allowed."

"Clint -"

"No," Clint says firmly, and Phil immediately puts the phone down. "This need to be on call 24/7 is something I planned on addressing with you anyway, but I'm not doing it when you're technically still in sub drop. For now I'll just say that you're on stand-down, there are other agents on call, and SHIELD can survive without you for twenty-four hours. I promise."

"I know. Sorry."

"It's okay, sweet boy. Commitment isn't a bad thing. But you need to focus on yourself right now."

"Thought that was your job," Phil teases.

Clint laughs softly, then presses a quick kiss to his lips. "I'm glad you're feeling better. How long has it been since you last experienced sub drop?"

"Four years, give or take.”

“Really? You’ve definitely been on bad ops in that time.”

Phil nods. “Usually I was either out of the line of fire or -” He sighs, trying not to blush. “Well, if we were a long way from medical, one of the Doms would…”

“Dom on duty,” Clint says. “Honey, I know all about that. No need to be embarrassed - it’s what has to happen sometimes to keep all agents safe. But they normally help subs who have dropped - you said you haven’t been in sub drop?”

“I was always priority level - the second we got clear, they’d sort me out pretty quickly and determine if I needed care or not. I’d generally get holed up in the back of a plane or a car with a blanket and a Dom keeping me aware of my surroundings. And since I knew back then that was all I was gonna get, I - well, I guess I fought the drop pretty hard. Even if I wanted to be held and looked after properly, I wasn’t gonna get it. So that’s how I usually dealt.”

“You didn’t fight this time? And nobody looked after you?”

“I tried. And they checked in but - but I guess they knew I had a Dom now and I’d be looked after once we got back. Everybody was pretty shaken and roughed up and I wasn’t going to make a nuisance of myself and say that I was starting to feel fuzzy when we were ten minutes from SHIELD and you’d be there.” Phil laughs with no humour. “Well.”

“The Dom on duty still should have caught it -”

“The Dom on duty was one of the agents who died.”

Clint stops. “Oh,” he murmurs after a moment, then sighs. “Okay. I’m sorry, I’m trying to find people to blame and that’s not helping things right now. We know medical fucked up, we’ll find out how soon enough, and that’s enough for now.”

Phil nods. “I can take my share of the blame for not trying to alert someone to what was happening, but I can tell you’re not letting me blame myself right now. It happened - it was gonna happen at some point, we both knew that. Though I really was hoping it wouldn’t happen six fucking weeks into our relationship.”

“I know. I’d make a joke but it’s probably not the right time.”

“It’s never the right time for any of your jokes.” Clint chuckles again and Phil smiles. “When's the last time you helped a sub through drop?"

Clint worries his bottom lip. "Well, never," he says.

Phil blinks. "Never?"

"Yeah. The past relationships I had were short lived, and with people who had no trauma to face on a daily basis. I've been on ops where sub agents dropped, but I was either never the Dom on duty - kinda not practical to have the sniper as the emergency Dom - or everybody pitched in to help. Being the sole anchor to pull a submissive out of drop is very new. That's why Steve's here - I hope that's okay."

Phil frowns. "He's here to help?"

"To help me, not you," Clint clarifies. "After getting you as levelled out as I could, I needed... I had to know that I did okay. That another Dom wouldn't have done it better. Needed the reassurance that I kept you safe and did my best."

"You did," Phil says, nuzzling into him, "but I get why you wouldn't believe it from me alone. Did he reassure you?"

Clint nods. "Said it was clear that I looked after you right. There's things he would've done differently, but that's his style and based off helping subs that aren't you. He says that you clearly responded to me and what I was doing and that means it was right. And he said it's - it's okay to worry. Because being scared about having someone else's safety in your hands is kind of a good thing, as long as you use the fear as fuel, instead of letting it freeze you up. And I did." Clint laughs a little and holds Phil tighter. "But in the spirit of honesty, I was scared shitless."

"Will you let me apologize for scaring you?"

"I think you know the answer to that question. I might as well apologize for SHIELD not informing me you needed me. This situation was so far out of our hands."

"You took control of it really well, though," Steve says as he returns, a plate in each hand. The smell hits Phil right in the stomach and he’s making grabby hands for the plate before he realizes. Clint and Steve both laugh, but it’s good natured and Phil just rolls his eyes as he digs in. “Really though, Clint. You did great.”

“Thanks," Clint says, uncharacteristically shy, and focuses on his own plate.

For awhile, there’s just companionable silence, then Clint and Steve settle back into conversation. It’s something to do with Tony and one of his labs, but Phil doesn’t pay attention, leaning against Clint again when he’s finished eating. He yawns a few times and Steve smiles. “Tired?”

“Uh-huh,” Phil mumbles, and Clint draws him closer. “Don’t want to go to bed yet. Happy here.”

Nobody makes him move. Phil ends up dozing, catching bits and pieces of conversation, until he comes to to find Steve and the plates gone and Clint gently shaking him awake. “C’mon, sweet boy,” Clint murmurs. “Time to get you to bed.”

Phil yawns. “Have your muscles deflated?”

“Thought I’d give you the choice.” Clint sounds amused. “There’s a plus in all this; I’ve seen you tired, but I don’t often get to see you sleepy.”

“There’s a distinction?”

“Yeah. You brat when you’re sleepy.”

Phil winces. “Sorry.”

Clint scoops him up. “It’s okay - it’s too cute to be effective,” he says as they head towards the door, and Phil chuckles.

Clint uses JARVIS to get the lift, apartment, and bedroom doors open (Phil has tried not to think too hard about the fact that JARVIS can open any door in the building, locked or not), and gently sets Phil on the edge of the bed, bringing him pyjamas to change into. “Bathroom,” Phil says once he’s changed, and goes after a nod from Clint. He doesn’t normally ask permission for things like that, but he’s still not quite in control of himself, still much happier letting Clint call all the shots.

Once he’s done and back in the bedroom, Clint settles him in bed then takes his own turn in the bathroom. Phil’s almost asleep by the time Clint gets back, and holds his arms out when Clint lies down. “I’ve got you,” Clint murmurs and draws Phil close.

Phil snuggles into Clint, yawning. “You’re good to me. Really good.”

“That’s all I try to be,” Clint says, his voice oddly small. “I learned pretty quickly that I can’t save you from the world, but I can be a safe place for you to come home to.”

“That’s exactly what you are. Am I that for you too?”

“You sure are, sweet boy.”

“Good. Can I go to sleep?”

Clint chuckles. “Of course you can. I’ll see you in the morning, hopefully with a clear mind.”

“Sure hope so.”

Phil’s going to say goodnight, but he falls asleep too fast.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter: the day after, and all that comes with it.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Well, shit," Tony says in the ensuing silence. "You're top of the fucking scale and you project neutral? I take my hat off to you, Phil Coulson."
> 
> [After being seen in a vulnerable and very submissive state by the rest of the team, Phil deals with the involuntary lowering of his walls]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lovec all the highly suspicious comments last chapter! This chapter should shed a little bit of light on what's happened, and let you know where we're headed from here (and also hopefully will just be cute and enjoyable too). Also, if you've been asking questions like 'what's up with Phil's hard limits?' and 'when are we gonna see subby badass competent Phil again?', this is the chapter for you.

Phil takes in the extent of the physical damage in the bathroom mirror the next morning. There's nothing broken, and nothing that won't fade in a few days, but the black eye definitely makes it clear that he's been hit more than a few times. There's scrapes across his cheeks, an angry purple bruise coming up on his forehead, and a long nasty scratch leading down his neck and across his shoulder. His ribs are tender, but at least not broken, and the skin on his wrists is red and irritated from the handcuffs. Phil sighs - he knows this means no wrist restraints for at least a week. He likes his wrist restraints.

Clint joins him after a few minutes, gently wrapping his arms around Phil from behind. "My poor beautiful boy," he murmurs.

"Not so beautiful now," Phil says wryly.

"Always beautiful." Clint somehow finds an uninjured patch of his cheek to press a kiss to, then turns Phil so he's looking at him properly. "Let me doctor you a little."

Clint leads Phil back to the bedroom, sitting him on the edge of the bed. He digs out a first aid kit and Phil does his best to relax as Clint inspects the scrapes and bruises, dabbing ointment on those that need it. "I think I can safely rule out trying any kind of medical roleplay," Phil says, hissing quietly at the sting.

Clint laughs quietly. "Yeah, not really a good one for either of us." There's silence for a bit, Phil's eyes closed while Clint examines his black eye, then Clint clears his throat a little. "Can I ask you a question, sweet boy? You don't have to answer, but I'd like it if you could try."

"I'll do my best. What is it?"

"You said you'd never be able to take a beating from me. Hard limit level. Does this... is it going to be an issue in days to come? I know I said I'd never pry, but if this is going to be a trigger for nightmares or panic attacks..."

Phil actually smiles a little. "The reason I can't handle a beating is because of this." He gestures to his face, opening his eyes to take in Clint's expression of confusion. "My job involves people who want to hurt and kill me. When they use their fists on me, they do it with intent to harm. It's out of hatred. And it often leads to subdrop - though generally not quite this bad, thank god. But that's what it's associated with now - if I'm being punched or slapped, especially in the face, it's a bad thing. And if it were you, with the knowledge that you love me... getting the beating would lose that love. I wouldn't be able to feel anything behind it except anger and hatred and I never ever want to feel like my Dom doesn't love me. When you punish, it's out of love and concern and wanting me to feel better. If you were to beat me, I wouldn't be able to find any of that in it... and then I'd cry."

Clint nods. "I understand," he says softly, and dodges the bruise to kiss Phil's forehead. "Thank you for telling me, sweetheart."

"It was never a secret. I just didn't want to break our negotiation time by going off on a segue, and then it never came up again. But you're welcome. So, in answer to your original question - apart from the standard aftermath, no nightmares or panic attacks or the like."

"Good." Clint closes up the first aid kit, but stays where he is, looking at Phil. "The beating hard limit wasn't a secret - what about the yelling?"

"Not a secret either, just embarrassing." Phil sighs and ducks his head. "I'm seriously just a wimp. Nothing ever happened to me or anything, I just really can't stand being yelled at. If I get yelled at at work, I can yell back and it's fine. But if someone yells at me and I can't defend myself, I just... well, I fucking bawl. It's pathetic."

"It's nothing of the sort," Clint says firmly. "Everybody has their limits. Remember how I reacted to being called a child in my second week on the job?"

Phil remembers vividly. "I still maintain that you should have trashed Jasper's office, since the comment came from him and all. It took quite a few weeks to get it back how I liked it."

"I helped."

"You did. I got to watch your arms while you put every file back in the cabinet - on second thoughts, I'm rather glad it was my office."

Clint grins. "You're welcome. What do you want to do with our day?"

"Can I get you coffee?" Phil asks. It's their normal routine, and normal is what Phil wants.

The grin slips away. "I don't like the idea of letting you go on your own just yet."

"Please?" Phil asks quietly. "It'll make me feel useful, and like things are getting better."

Clint sighs, but nods. "Okay."

“Thank you,” Phil says, and goes before Clint can change his mind.

Tony, Steve and Natasha are in the kitchen when Phil walks in, and he pauses for a moment before forcing himself to continue in. "Good morning," Steve says, smiling. "How are you feeling, Phil?"

"Better, thanks. Much more... stable." He gets two mugs down, then stops and turns back. "I am extremely sorry about last night."

Natasha rolls her eyes. "I'm pretty sure Clint would've told you you're not allowed to apologize. It really wasn't your fault, and none of us think less of you."

"Still. I should have been able to get through the briefing. I promised when I first became the liaison that I wouldn't let my submissiveness get in the way of doing a good job and I did that last night -"

"JARVIS," Tony says, cutting him off, "tell Clint to come down here."

"No need," Clint says, entering the room and crossing to Phil's side, putting his arms around him. "Hey. Take a deep breath. I've got you."

Phil does. The panic he wasn't even aware of begins to recede. "What just happened?" he asks.

"You might be level, but your endorphins are still fairly haywire. It won't take much to trigger your emotions today, and that's why I didn't want to let you go off on your own quite yet. Looks like I got here at just the right time."

Phil rests his head against the cupboard door, then winces when he hits a bruise and lifts it again. "Can't even do a simple task without fucking up," he mutters.

"None of that, sweetheart," Clint soothes. "You didn't fuck up, okay? It's not your fault."

"Keep making an idiot of myself in front of the team."

"Everybody on this team has seen a sub in drop before," Clint tells him. "We all have dominant instincts - even Nat, loathe as she is to admit it - and all anybody wants is for you to feel safe and cared for. There's no judgement here. Nobody is looking at you and seeing Coulson being unprofessional; they're seeing Phil recovering from sub drop. You're off the clock, and even if you were on the clock, nobody’s gonna blame you. We're all friends here - hell, when they’re not being annoying, they’re kind of like family too. Okay?"

Phil turns back to look at the others. He sees nothing but warmth and compassion, and has to smile. "Clint?" he asks.

"Yeah, honey?"

"Do we have to go back to your room?"

Clint looks at him, then at the others, before smiling. "Phil Coulson, are you asking me to share you?" he teases. "You know where I stand on that."

Phil laughs. “No, I just want to be around friends." He hesitates, not sure whether to have the rest of this conversation privately later, then just goes for it. "I feel like we hide our relationship too much sometimes and today I just want to be comfortable in having you as my Dom in front of others. Then I might stop feeling so stressed about having to be perfect and feeling like I have to project neutral all the time."

Clint kisses his forehead. "Anything that helps you stress less is good with me. You can rematch Tony on Mario Kart."

"Hell yes!" Tony says, and immediately heads for the living room to set up.

Phil laughs, then looks at Natasha and Steve. "No pressure to actually stick around," he says.

"I'm definitely here for watching Tony sulk when you smash him again," Natasha says, then rolls her eyes when Tony swears. "Dumbass. Still don't know how someone so technical can't set up a console."

She goes to help, and Steve smiles at Phil. "I'll hang out too. It's kind of making me feel better about..." he hesitates, then shrugs. "Well, Clint, you'll know what it's like. Sometimes you just really need a sub, need to look after someone."

"Yeah," Clint says quietly, and his arms tighten around Phil's waist. "Feeling that lately?"

"A bit. And I thought I'd be bitter about the two of you, but it's actually helping sort of soothe that. Just seeing you calm him and get him through this, it's fulfilling in a weird way."

Clint smiles. "I'm glad we can help." He pauses, glancing at Phil. "Absolutely veto this, sweetheart, if you're uncomfortable with it, it's just a suggestion. But, Steve, Phil is cuddly as hell and just the sweetest goddamn thing and I'd never let another Dom dominate him, but I wouldn't say no if you just wanted to... to just hug him a bit. Probably not today, and obviously not at all if Phil says no, but if you're feeling particularly needy and just need a sub to hold..."

Clint gives him an apprehensive look, and Phil kisses his cheek. "I'm okay with that," he says, and Clint relaxes. "As long as you're my only Dom, I'm happy to help a friend out."

Steve looks a little overwhelmed. "Thanks, guys," he says quietly. "I'll... I'll think about it. Definitely."

He follows the others through to the living room, and Phil draws close to Clint again. "You're a good Dom," he murmurs.

Clint tilts his head up and kisses him softly. "And you're a wonderful sub. I'm sorry I didn't run that by you privately first but I... I know that look I saw in his eyes. It's not just general wanting a sub, it's being in love with someone you can't have. It means a lot of lonely nights, and I've had enough of them to want to spare anybody else if I can."

That hurts to think of. Phil presses a hand to Clint's chest, feeling his heart beating steadily beneath it. "Was that when you loved me?"

"Yeah. I dreamt of scenes like this for years - not necessarily with the sub drop, but just taking care of you and holding you and keeping you safe. Which is why sometimes I'm convinced I died in battle and this is heaven."

"Heaven had better not come with sub drop," Phil says darkly, and Clint chuckles. "I had the sub equivalent of needy nights too. Wanting to be cared for and loved, and always by you."

"You have me now," Clint promises. "And I have you. We got so lucky."

"We did." Phil thinks of Steve, still missing and loving a sub long dead, and presses closer to Clint. "I'm always painfully aware that it could have been too late for us. Every mission could have been the one that killed one of us."

"I know."

Clint kisses him, possessive and controlling, and Phil goes lightheaded embarrassingly fast. He has to pull away, pressing his forehead to Clint’s shoulder. “I will _melt_ ,” he warns Clint.

"Sorry," Clint says quickly, holding him tight. "I didn't want to mess with your headspace when your endorphins are like this - you already hit subspace so easily and I don't want to take you there and risk you dropping again when you come back down."

"S'okay. It's only a little floaty."

"I like you floaty," Clint says fondly. "But not right now. In a couple of days, though, when I'm sure you're okay again, I'm going to send you soaring. It's been too long since we've foregone the restraints and just had me hold your wrists in place."

"Not helping," Phil warns. He can feel his eyes glazing over - he’s always been susceptible to words, and Clint’s promises of things to come can sometimes affect him almost as much as the actions themselves.

Clint laughs softly, because he knows exactly what he does to Phil. "And now you need to go play video games."

Phil groans as they head for the living room. "I think you're on Stark's side and did it on purpose."

"Did what?" Tony asks.

"I may have put him slightly into a good headspace," Clint admits as they sit down, Phil leaning against him and Clint wrapping an arm around him. "He's 'floaty', apparently."

"Does this mean Tony stands a chance?" Steve asks.

Clint and Natasha both laugh. "But hang on," Natasha says. "You two were alone in there for, like, a minute. What did you do?"

Clint grins wickedly. "Phil," he informs the group, "goes down like _that_." He snaps his fingers, and Phil rolls his eyes. "Well, okay, I can't take him all the way that quickly," Clint allows. "But all I really need to do is tell him what I'm gonna do, or kiss him a bit hard, or pin his wrists down -"

"Clint, if you don't want me going into subspace, perhaps you shouldn't be talking about ways I go into subspace."

Clint laughs and kisses his cheek. "Sorry, babe. I'll be good."

Tony tosses him a controller. "I'm taking advantage of this - spaced out and one good eye. Let's play."

Phil still beats him.

After a few rounds, and once Phil's handed over his controller to Natasha, Tony glances over at him. "Quick question," he says. "Obviously ignore if it's too personal, but what's your rank, Phil?"

Clint tenses. Phil pats his hand. "It's okay," he says. "I don't mind." He grins then, still feeling a bit too floaty - or maybe just feeling secure in being so subby around others. The fact that none of them know his rank is enough of an indication that Phil’s suppressed himself for a very long time, and just _being_ submissive is amazing. "No, hang on. Guess."

"What's the highest neutral score?" Tony asks.

"Sixty-five."

"Sixty-six," Tony says. Clint laughs and Tony’s eyes flit to him. “Okay, higher obviously. Seventy?”

Clint keeps his face impassive. Phil raises an eyebrow at Natasha, who just shakes her head. She doesn’t normally go in for games like this - either she knows the information already and doesn’t want to admit how, or she knows she’s going to be wrong and doesn’t want to be. “Okay,” Phil says. "Steve?"

"Well, at work you pretty much seem like a neutral," Steve says. "But if Clint can put you in the beginnings of subspace in less than a minute... low eighties?"

Phil laughs. Clint smirks at him. "To be fair, I thought you were an eighty," he reminds him. "Wouldn't make that mistake now, though."

For the first time, Phil takes delight in revealing his score. "I'm a ninety-five," he says

"Well, shit," Tony says in the ensuing silence. "You're top of the fucking scale and you project neutral? I take my hat off to you, Phil Coulson."

Steve takes a different view of it. "No wonder you dropped so hard," he says quietly. "Fucking hell, Phil. Medical owes you big time, and they're damn lucky they don't have a neglect case on their hands."

Clint frowns, sitting forward a little. "I think you know something we don't, Steve. Obviously it's bad that he was left alone, but...?"

"Subs in the top ten have much higher risk factors when we go into sub drop," Phil reluctantly tells him. “If we're left alone for too long, we can go catatonic, or hit full blown hysteria, complete with panic attacks and tearing at our own skin, trying to get out of it."

There's another silence, then Clint groans and puts his head in his hands. "Phil," he says quietly.

Phil wraps his arms around Clint, who turns into his embrace, holding him tight in return. "I'm okay," he says.

"You could have not been. If I hadn't seen Sitwell and asked where you were, I wouldn't have known for hours and you... you were headed for catatonia. And I didn't even know, why didn't I think to learn, I've got a sub in the top ten - hell, the top _five_ percent and I never thought -"

"Clint," Phil says firmly. "Don't do this to yourself. It’s not like I’ve given you a reason to go looking - I’ve said time and again that I’m not just my rank. I wouldn’t expect you to think of that.” Phil smiles a little wryly. “After all, I’m always calmly competent. You don’t look at me and think hysteria.”

Clint smiles a little. “Yeah, true. Still -“

“It’s not your fault at all,” Phil says. “SHIELD made a serious oversight. If you’d been called straight away like you were meant to be, there wouldn’t have been any of this to worry about. No subs are good in extended sub drop, I just cope a bit less well than others. But, like you said, this won’t happen again.”

“It won’t. I’m going to Fury about this," Clint promises. "I won't let this stand."

"I won't argue with that. Just... let's just have a nice day, okay? Hang out with our friends, have some fun, and deal with all of this tomorrow."

Clint nods. "I can do that." He glances over at Steve, watching them in concern. "Hey. Don't want to upset you either but was James...?"

"Ninety-three." Steve smiles a little sadly. "Got him through a couple of rough drops, and he made it out fine each time. But I fully agree with you making a lot of havoc out of this.”

“I still find it amazing that he got let into the military with such a high rank,” Phil says.

Steve snorts. “They were too busy worrying about the kid with every disease in the book - and then nobody was brave enough to tell the serum-powered soldier that his sub wasn’t allowed to fight.”

“Did you really have every disease?” Tony asks.

Steve begins rattling off a truly impressive list, Tony’s eyes growing wider with each one. Natasha makes some jibe about Steve and his ‘old man diseases’ and the two are off, with Tony gleefully fanning the flames.

Phil curls into Clint’s side and watches in contentment. It’s a scene he’s seen played out many times, has been a part of himself in the past, but today it feels different. Everything feels a little different - and maybe that’s because he’s still a bit fragile and shaky around the edges, but Phil doesn’t think so. The sub drop has stripped away careful, guarded layers of Phil’s public persona, the one he wears even in the tower - albeit slightly more casual than the face he puts on at SHIELD - but Phil’s choice to keep those walls lowered was all him. He’s letting himself just _be_ ; unguarded, vulnerable, and happy. He’s not worried that he’ll be ‘too subby’ or considered on a different level to the others, fears that Phil has always carried. He knows now that they’re groundless, that being seen at his most submissive won’t change any opinions of him in anybody’s eyes.

He’s been happy here in the tower, but up until now he’s never let himself be _himself_. And sure, he’s not going to start spending all his time at Clint’s feet or going in for public scenes, but he knows now he doesn’t have to suppress any of the parts of himself he’s always been told were weak. He’s always _known_ , of course, but to feel it is wonderful.

Maybe there are some positives in sub drop after all.

***

"I'm proud of you," Clint says later that night.

Phil lifts his head from Clint's shoulder. "Why?"

"I know being anything less than completely in control in public isn't easy for you."

Phil smiles wryly. "Well, sub drop is kind of the least in control I could be. After that, it was all over. There's no denying that I'm a sub."

"There never was, you know?" Phil frowns, and Clint smiles a little sadly. "Sweetheart, you're submissive. Everybody knows it, and we've always known. Nobody treats you like you're neutral because they want to pretend that you're not a sub or anything - they treat you how you ask to be treated. If you wanted to spend a night at my feet or not being spoken to directly by any Doms but me or... hell, anything really, then that's how people would treat you. You're not a different person when you step out of our room, Phil. Everything you show the world is a part of you. And I think -"

"What?"

"Well, it's probably nice for them to get to see more of you. To know you better. I know there are some things that only I'll ever see, but today was a real sign of trust. Everybody knows how tightly hidden you've kept your submissive self over the years - it's wonderful to see it come out, even just a little. There's no reason to be ashamed of being submissive, after all."

Phil takes a moment to take all that in, then sighs and changes the subject because - "Do you really think there was just a mistake with my records?"

Clint sighs too. "I really hope so," he says. "Because if not..."

"The council?"

Surprisingly, Clint shakes his head. "I don't think so," he says. "I mean, it's possible, but all the shit they do usually at least goes through official channels. They need to keep their power, and screwing around with high-ranking SHIELD agents medical files isn't going to reflect well on them if it comes out - and honestly, what good does it do them? Their conditions were for you to get a Dom so things like this didn't happen; for them to then go and make sure I couldn't have access to you is a direct contradiction and proves nothing."

"So you think... something else?"

Clint rubs a hand over his face. "I've been having a feeling," he says.

Phil sits up and takes note. The reason he and Clint have worked together so well over the years is because Phil learned early to trust Clint's feelings, no matter how unsubstantiated or irrational they may sound. Those are the feelings that have gotten him the kill shots that seemed otherwise impossible, and the ones that helped bring down an entire terrorist organisation because of Clint's refusal to kill the one man who ended up having all the information. And, of course, Natasha speaks for herself.

Clint chuckles a little at Phil's attention. "It's nothing to work off yet," he says. "Just... something doesn't feel right about SHIELD. Like someone isn't who they say they are."

"You know that's an absolutely terrifying thought, right?"

"Yes, which is why I haven't mentioned it yet. I need to know more - and I'm working on it."

"You'll tell me if you learn anything?"

"Of course." Clint shrugs and takes Phil's hand. "As for your records, though, there is still a chance that it was just a mistake, and I think we need to go in treating it as such. Launching an investigation into whether your files were tampered with might..."

"Play somebody's hand too early?"

Clint nods. "Again, just a hunch."

Phil's happy to accept it - and quite happy not to rock the boat too much. "So we're just letting Fury know what happened, getting it changed, and leaving it there?"

Clint slowly raises an eyebrow. "And who exactly do you take me for?" he asks. "Regardless of what was going on with your records, sweetheart, medical fucked up. You are Philip J Coulson, one of the most important agents SHIELD's got, and if medical can't even take a second to look at your chart and realise that something isn't adding up, then I'm not prepared to risk your safety with them ever again - or any other submissive's safety, for that matter. I might not be able to figure out why your file wasn't updated, but I can sure as fuck find out why trained medical professionals weren't doing their jobs. And I will do so with great pleasure."

Phil sighs, mostly out of propriety. "Please don't break anything."

"You know I don't make promises I can't keep," Clint says, and kisses his cheek.

***

_[the following day]_

“... so I finish giving my corroborating testimony,” Steve says, leaning against the bar, “and Clint’s standing there all Alpha Dom -”

“You’re an Alpha?” Bruce asks.

Clint smirks. “Borderline enough that I can make it come out when I need to. And I definitely needed to today. Continue, Steve.”

Steve nods. “Fury was understandably pissed off as it was, but _then_ he had to ask Phil for his statement. And Phil hadn’t even said about four words before Fury was already on his feet, ready to get down to medical and hand some peoples asses to them."

Tony whistles. “Jesus, Agent, what’d you say?”

Phil tries not to smirk. “It wasn’t what I said, it was how I said it.”

“Think wide-eyed, innocent, valiantly fighting back tears and apologizing for causing a fuss,” Clint says. “I knew it was coming and it still broke my fucking heart.”

“You played Fury?” Natasha asks, the corner of her mouth lifting in a small smile.

“No,” Phil says honestly. “I just didn’t suppress my submissive side like I normally do. I meant what I said - it really was quite embarrassing to be causing a fuss, and equally as difficult to try and discuss how it felt to be left alone in sub drop.” Clint’s arm around his waist tightens and there’s silence, before Phil chuckles, low and amused. “But I could have hidden all of that away and dealt with it later. However, when people are only used to seeing me portray neutral and I suddenly go all _subby_ on them…”

“They want to walk through fire for him,” Clint says. “Or take names, which is exactly what Fury did.”

“You totally played Fury,” Natasha says, this time smiling properly and approvingly.

Phil tilts his head in her direction. “I used the skills at my disposal,” he says. “Got to be some benefits to being considered the weaker class, right?”

“Nothing weak about you,” Steve says, and his tone is almost admiring and Phil is not going to blush at his _childhood hero_ praising him like this, he’s _not_. “Especially when we got to medical and you made it clear that you weren’t some weak-willed sub to be bossed around; you were pissed off too.”

Phil shrugs a little. "Clint reminded me last night that if we didn't do something about it, this could happen to other submissives. I'm not prepared to let that happen."

“We stood back and let him and Fury run the show,” Clint says, grinning. “Quiet, steely intimidation from those two, with Steve and I glaring in the background, and I might have had my bow. It’s a wonder nobody fainted.”

Phil rolls his eyes. “End result - three people fired, the entire department hauled in for sensitivity training, and the _delight_ of watching Fury try to figure out whether he needed to treat me like I was fragile once we were all done. Of course, he knows far better than that now.”

“You’re a badass, Phil Coulson,” Tony says, raising a glass in his direction. “A toast to the subbiest of badasses.”

Glasses are actually raised, Clint laughs, and Phil kisses his cheek to try and hide his stupid mixture of embarrassment and pride.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next fic: a bit of filler and relationship development (before shit seriously goes down. Thanks Bucky.)
> 
> Quick note re Phil's hard limits and why I wrote them as I did - sometimes I feel like too many hard limits in fic are based on a history of abuse or bad experiences with things - and of course those types of limits are very important and valid and incredibly realistic and should be discussed - but it's also perfectly reasonable to have a hard limit based on just not wanting something. I hate hate hate being yelled at and it's a serious hard limit for me, but that doesn't stem from anything in childhood or a bad partner or anything like that, it's just the way I am. Phil's the same.


End file.
